


Withdrawl

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Countdown to Final Crisis, Death, Drugs, Flashbacks, Mental Breakdown, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:57:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock craved the attention of his resent copanion , but knowing this wouldn't happen he finally was going where he belonged . No where</p>
            </blockquote>





	Withdrawl

It was mid-night and the clock in the living room had struck 12, Sherlock had been tossing and Turing in his bed but he couldn’t sleep. His mind running circles, over everything and he couldn’t stop it.  
What would his life been life if he hadn’t met john  
What if they never met? And none of this never happened.   
It made Sherlock’s chest tighten just thinking about it , the panic making him thinking crazy thoughts as he wrote letters , sent texts; all saying how he couldn’t do it anymore   
Sherlock had lost his best friend and now he was slowly losing his mind. He was driven to madness, causing not to leave the flat for days. He was rotting away and he didn’t care   
Sherlock wanted to tell him this and more, but John thinks that Sherlock is incapable of affection and feeling. In his head he heard the word feelings resound in his mind in the harsh undertone that that he used when he hated something, mostly Mycroft.   
Sherlock glanced towards the door as he heard more rustling and clinks coming from the kitchen. The sounds had tricked Sherlock more than once and this was the worst part   
Sherlock had also stared to talk to himself, something he never used to do before meeting john, it was a habit he picked up from the doctor and something that he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. Even after all these years, the older man had started to humanise the machine. Sherlock wasn’t going to lie, he was enjoying beaning able to feel. Knowing how emotions felt.   
But the john got married, and the detective felt alone. Abandoned by the people he once called his friends. It wasn’t long after this that Sherlock turned back to drugs turned back to the drugs which was for a "case”. He began to get in the wrong crowed, the wrong people encouraging his drug use. He had no one to turn to and he couldn’t take it anymore. He would sit for days without eating, sending text after text to Greg. But

Had it been a week ?  
Month ?  
Year?

The days blur together. Words lost in a haze. The Feel of a hand forgotten. The love of a friend, never to be felt again. Sherlock sat in the middle of the cold damp floor,needles around him dirty with blood.The sweat dripping off his forehead onto the floor turning the grey carpet dark and unpleasant. The drugs in his system were doing this,unwanted things that Sherlock didn't want to think about or even imagine but he did .Things like John sitting once again his Chair like he had never gone away. Gavin calling for him because he was needed. Then other times he would see John coming towards him, knife in hand yelling at him violently , screaming how the once great detective had ruined his life. 

Days and days would slip by like rain down a hill and Sherlock would fade away slowly . His mind wasted . He sat there the sinringe full of heroin , an overdose which was garranteed to end his life, his suffering , his pain and Watching his best friend ... His only friend leave him and fall in love with another . Sherlock sighed deeply hanging his head looking at the darkened floor. He missed the human contact , which was a first.

He picked up the syringe and twirled it in his long lean fingers. He was studying it giving the thing that would end his life a longer glance before he found a vain and slid in the needle . Sherlock took a deep , ragged breath and pushed down on the plunger. He gasped as the drugged entered is blood stream making his pupils dilate .His Brain had already started to count down the minutes before his heart would finally stop .

28 minutes and 20 seconds.

Sherlock was drifting in and out of reality .He was dreaming , flash backs of his life making him smile as his heart tried to fight . Every time he woke , time had past.

20 minutes and 14 seconds. 

Sherlock was beginning to feel worse .His pulse had got weaker ,his tempture beginning to rise rapidly . His ale=ready white skin turning a deathly shade that was enough to worry anyone.

15 minutes and 49 seconds

Lastrad half jogged towards the dying detective and took his limp body info his long thin arms. Frantically shaking him , begging him to wake. Despite the shaking and desperate yelling Sherlock was drifting off again , his lips becoming colder 

3 minutes and 59 seconds.

His time left was slipping past fast and every second was precious.

Sherlock looked up at lastrads face which was stained with tears , the hot luiqud dripping onto sherlocks almost lifeless face.

60 seconds.

"Greg" sherlock crocked

" I'm glad you here"

5

4

3

2

1

And that was it , the greatest dectective of the 21th centry was dead , his dead lifeless body laying on the floor while a rally of police officers hushed their blood out of the room so they could deal with Sherlock effectively. Which left greg to make the call , The one he had been dreading since Sherlock drew his last breath. He had to call John. John Watson who had practically been Sherlock's life line in the four years that they knew each other . Greg's heart sank as he dealt the news to the doctor " John.." He whimpered though the phone " His gone.... he did it I thought it was a bluff , one of his silly little mind games but he did it john" The detective was trying so hard not to cry but he couldn't help it was a few tears rolled down his cheeks ." He took his life...yes...no no no john it wasn't your fault...yes....im sorry.." He hang up unable to listen to john sobbing though the phone . He dropped the object and walked out of the flat Baker Street was never the same after that , and it would never be the same again


End file.
